


This isn't goodbye

by Willia



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M, Other, Post-Kirkwall, Purple Hawke, There are spoilers in this thing!!, Well only spoilers for DA2 but still, the fenhawke is background stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 13:59:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15050666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willia/pseuds/Willia
Summary: The sun has disappeared over the mountains, leaving behind it streaks of colour in the clouds. Hawke has to leave soon. There's nothing else he can do for Kirkwall.





	This isn't goodbye

"Kirkwall has the most beautiful sunsets."

"Does it now?" Varric glanced at Hawke, tying a greyish bandage around his wounded arm. It wasn't bleeding anymore, but he'd rather avoid any further damage. Especially now that Blondie was gone, probably making his way out of the Free Marches by then.

He hadn't really been surprised, when Hawke had told him to run. He'd been asked so often to make the decisions, take responsibility for everything and anything.

That had been one responsibility too many. Varric had seen something break in his friends' eyes, then, standing behind Blondie with a dagger in his hand. It was as though all the sorrow in Thedas had just engulfed him, before retreating just as quickly, like the movements of the furious water at the Wounded Coast.

Hawke had put the dagger back in its sheath. His hands were trembling, but he'd done it in one swift motion, without hesitating.

"Yeah, I can't believe I'm only noticing it now."

"Well, you haven't exactly had much time for sunset watching," Varric noted.

He followed Hawke's gaze. The horizon was orange-pink, much too colourful for the horrors that had just unfolded in the Gallows. He bumped his shoulder against Hawke amicably.

"This is a good spot for sunset watching." Hawke was squinting, still staring at the moving clouds in the distance, over the burning city. They were sitting at the top of a flight of stairs in Hightown, not far from the Amell Estate. The stone was still warm from the day under Varric's fingers, polished by decades of footsteps.

They'd come here so Hawke could collect some of his things, clothes, weapons, food, whatever he could carry that he'd need on the road. They both knew he'd have to be gone by the time night settled.

The edges of the clouds were already turning purple. Hawke turned upon hearing the rustling sound of Varric fishing a flimsy fabric bag from his pocket.

"Here," Varric said, "they're Broody's favourites."

Hawke breathed in the scent of the freshly baked meat pastries, eyebrows raised. "How do you know?"

"Well, let's just say that Wicked Grace and Orlesian wine are a great combination to loosen the tongues." He winked.

Hawke scoffed. "I don't know whether that's the best or worst use of loosened tongues."

"Come on Hawke, you must know by now that any secret is good to possess." He cleared his throat, and added, more softly: "Take care of him, will you? He's been through enough."

"You know I will."

Varric clasped Hawke's shoulder, briefly, like he did when words escaped him. Farther down the street, a dog barked, followed by a furious cat's hiss. Hightown was deserted of people, everyone either hiding in their mansions, or helping clean the mess downtown.

"So you're staying?" Hawke asked.

"You know I'd rather come with you, Chuckles, but I'm positive I'll be of more use if I stick around and muddy up the trails for whoever might try to find you."

"I'll miss you."

"Come on, this isn't goodbye! I'm going to need sequel content!"

Hawke barked a quick laugh. "Of course there's gonna be a book."

"Hey, I'm a storyteller, I need content! The Champion is good for sales."

"Alright, I'll allow it, but I demand that you make me taller." He thought for a second. "And more handsome."

"You know I can't do that, Hawke, I must remain the most charming character."

"Insist on my beard, then. Talk about how superb it is."

"Promise." Varric smiled up at him.

Hawke mirrored his grin, before it quickly fell off his face as he looked towards the horizon again. "I'll miss you," he repeated.

"I'll miss you too. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

"Terrible advice."

Varric laughed. "Okay, how's this then: look after yourself, cut your hair every once in a while, and don't forget about me."

"I can manage that." Hawke got up, without any of his usual enthusiasm, both hands pushing on his knees. He grabbed the chestpiece of the armour he'd gathered in years of too much sweat and too many tears from the ground, and began fastening it. His gloved fingers were clumsy, so Varric got up and used his step-high advantage to take the leather straps from his friend's hands. Hawke let him.

No one, apart from Fenris, had helped him with his armour in years, but right now he appreciated the silent help. He watched the last patches of purple sky turn blue, as Varric tightened the armour against him.

"And don't give up," Varric said, in a low voice. "It's my last request. Don't give up."

Hawke knew all too well what he meant. Being the very last person to bear a name was quite the responsibility.

He didn't answer. He knew Varric knew he'd heard. Instead he rolled his shoulders, adjusting the new weight, and turned back towards him.

"Thank you, Hawke." Varric, still perched on the stairs, leaned forward and embraced Hawke as tightly as the chestpiece let him.

When he let go, Hawke grabbed his bag and swung it over his shoulder.

Varric rubbed his cheek, eyes fixed on him. "Remember you always have a friend in Kirkwall."

"Always?" Hawke asked.

"Even if the sky splits open," Varric swore, a closed fist over his heart.

Hawke smiled at him, mimicking his gesture. "I'll hold you to that."

The sound of clanking metal echoed down the street. Varric glanced past Hawke. "Templars."

Hawke nodded gravely. "I believe that's my cue." He clasped Varric's hand in both of his. "Best of luck."

"Ah, keep it, you're going to need it more than me. Besides, I make my own luck." Varric began walking backwards in the Templar’s direction, eyes fixed on his friend.

"Wait,” said Hawke, “is this about cards? Are you finally admitting that you've been cheating all those years?"

A shit-eating grin spread on Varric's face, and he shrugged dramatically. "See you in the next book!" he shouted back.

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat on [Tumblr](https://stormthedarkcity.tumblr.com/)!


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